


Valerian Flowers

by fourliefclover



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, I always write alfyn as a trans man but it's. not mentioned here. oh well., crossposted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 10:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18071513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourliefclover/pseuds/fourliefclover
Summary: During Tressa's Chapter 3, Primrose takes a quiet walk, and finds Alfyn hard at work gathering herbs to use for his work. They spend a little time chatting. AlfPrim, sort of.





	Valerian Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I bequeath unto you all this oneshot. Partake and enjoy.
> 
> All silliness aside my only note is that i always write Alfyn trans, whether I mention it in fic or not. It didn't come up in this one, but it remains a fact of my writing.

Primrose hadn't intended to find her way to Alfyn out in the woodlands near Victor's Hollow.

Her intent had been simply to go for a walk and get some air. It was their second time in the city as a traveling group, and she needed time away from the busy marketplace. Fond as she was of Tressa and Therion, their familial sort of bickering could grow tiresome after a while.

After the Merchant's Fair they would go to Everhold. That was their plan, at least. Primrose's wound was healing slowly, and the fair wasn't far off anyhow- it would help fill the time.

Olberic, Cyrus, Ophilia and H'aanit had stayed at the inn for the better part of the morning. Alfyn had been gone already when they all rose- herb gathering, his note said.

So, Primrose should have supposed she might run into him when she stepped into the thinner woods nearest town. An area where no monsters or beasts roamed, too close to civilization for them to want to. And there was Alfyn, work gloves on his hands, carefully cutting, binding and cataloguing some sort of plant.

It appeared to be a flower, with long stalks- they split into many small pink blossoms at the crown, with a host of leaves down under. Alfyn was cutting just above the leave and binding the flower and root separately, while occasionally making notes if he noticed something.

Primrose didn't notice that she was staring, not quite. Alfyn was usually so fidgety and lively, it was strange to see him quietly focused and his movements so precise and small. Apothecary though he was, he was a tall and strong bodied person with a voice that carried and commanded attention despite its gentle tone. And even in a fight, though he handled himself as well as any of them, he preferred larger movements and brutalizing the enemy with magic and might to the fleet evasion of others such as Therion and H'aanit.

By and all, this silent focused side of him was not one the dancer had seen very often.

A thought came to her unbidden- Ophilia had mentioned to her before their departure from Noblecourt that while she had administered the most emergency treatment, the practical care for the wound after had been managed tirelessly by Alfyn, who didn't sleep until they were sure Primrose would stabilize.

Had he, she wondered, been like this when suturing and cleaning her wound? She thought about the small tin of ointment in her hip pouch that had many times already alleviated soreness and irritation in her healing wound. It even seemed to be keeping the scarring to a minimum. A pang of something went through her, and then Alfyn sneezed into his elbow.

Without ever realizing she had stopped to stare, she approached him and lowered herself to kneel next to him on the ground.

“Hello there, Alfyn.” She offered calmly. He blinked and looked up at her, as if just noticing her. Judging by how focused he had been until just then, Primrose believed it could very well be true.

“Oh!” He breathed, “Golly, Primrose, sorry. Got real into things and didn't hear ya come up.”

“There's no need to apologize.” Primrose said. Alfyn wiped at his face and left a smear of dirt on his nose- she restrained a laugh at the way he wrinkled it when he realized. _Isn't that just cute._ She thought. This was more like the head in the clouds country boy she had first met.

“What are you picking here?” She asked after a moment. Alfyn turned back to his work and started to basket the herbs.

“It's Valerian.” He provided brightly, “Good stuff. The roots can help with some different things, mostly they're good for calmin' ya down. In different doses they can be used for anxiety or insomnia, and they're friendlier tasting than sleepweed by a longshot. I thought I'd see how they work for the night owls among us.”

He stood and dusted off the knees of his trousers. Primrose followed, and was once again amused at how high he rose above her. Alfyn insisted he had been a 'scrawny pipsqueak' as late as age sixteen, but that was a far cry away from the straight backed tower he was now. Nothing compared to Olberic, who may as well be an entire tree- but then, nobody was quite as formidable as the knight.

“What purpose do the flowers serve, then?” Primrose asked curiously as they began to walk toward the road together. Alfyn laughed.

“Nothin' much, so far as medicine goes. But they're a pretty sight. Thought we could sell 'em for a penny or two, and Ophilia's taken to pressin' those sortsa things as a hobby, so I usually set aside a couple for her when I find something she hasn't put in her little book yet.”

She didn't have to quicken her steps to keep up with Alfyn after they reached the stone path- he slowed to accommodate her, as he always did. Probably a reflex by now. The only member of their party taller than him was Olberic, after all. Even H'aanit stood nearly a half head shorter than the riverlands boy.

“Ah yes, I think I had noticed that.” Primrose mentioned, looking at the flowers. It must have been what the cleric had purchased the empty journal for a time back.

“You oughtta come along with me next time, Primrose.” Alfyn said, offering her a hand up the bridge steps- which she accepted.

“I don't know much about medicinal plants, Alfyn.” She replied with a wry smile. Alfyn laughed.

“Doesn't mean you can't have some fun traipsin' through the woods! Aside of that, you always fit right in with flowers and such. Pretty as a peach blossom, you are.”

Primrose's pulse leaped just a touch at the compliment. They flowed from Alfyn like water when it came to her- she wasn't blind, either. He was enamored of her quite a bit, and she knew it, and so did everyone else. Alfyn thought he hid it, she was sure, but his soft gazes and gentle words were hard not to see right through.

And, she was finding more and more, hard not to believe. He meant every kind word he ever put to anyone. Completely guileless he was, a rare and refreshing trait.

Though her tongue felt a bit dry (curse her traitorous body) as she did so, she laughed. She took his arm.

“No need for flattery, sir.” She commented lightly, “You've already won my friendship.”

“Aw, come on now, I'm not trying to _flatter_ ya, it's just the truth.”

He plucked up a sprig of the valerian blossoms and deposited it in her ponytail with a chuckle. “There ya go. Have yourself a gift.”

Primrose only shook her head and chuckled back.

But, as they returned to the inn, she did hold herself much closer to Alfyn than she would have before. His woodsy scent, the solid feel of his arm- and the slow amble of his gait so she could keep up easily- they were much more soothing than any medicine could be.

 


End file.
